


On One Wounded Wing

by Thistlerose



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BB-8 Ships It, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, I owe them smut, M/M, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7157171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe Dameron convinces himself that Kylo Ren died when Starkiller Base exploded. Because it's plausible. Because he needs to believe it, in order to get on with his life.</p><p>There is no way that this plan could ever backfire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On One Wounded Wing

_We thought we lost you_  
_We thought we lost you_  
_We thought we lost you_  
_Welcome back_  
\- The New Pornographers, [Adventures in Solitude](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/newpornographers/adventuresinsolitude.html)

 

For a brief time - three months and a handful of days, no more - it's possible to believe that Kylo Ren died when Starkiller exploded. It's plausible. When Poe destroyed the thermal oscillator, it set off a chain reaction that ultimately turned the planet into another star. Nothing left behind on the surface could have survived and Rey told them that Ren was in the woods and badly wounded, far from any help, when the planet began its death throes.

It's plausible.

General Organa says nothing, and Poe doesn't ask. He's one of the few people on the base that knows Kylo Ren used to be Ben Solo, her son. He and Ben even met as children once, when the General brought her family to Yavin 4 to visit with Poe's parents. He has only a dim memory of their meeting - he was much more impressed with legendary Leia Organa and Han Solo than he was with their sulky three-year-old son - but it did occur. He almost wishes that it hadn't, or that he could simply forget because he doesn't want to think of Kylo Ren as someone who was once a child, with a mother and father. He doesn't want to think of him as someone who sipped blue milk from Poe's favorite cup, or who sat on Poe's bedroom floor and played with his model X-wings.

In some ways, that's the worst thing of all: that he was always there in Poe's memories, waiting. This man who murdered Lor San Tekka, ordered the massacre of Tuanul, and bludgeoned his way into Poe's mind, battering past all of his meager defenses in search of the information he wanted. He can still feel an echo of it sometimes, when he's overtired or if there's a flash of bright light: the prick of needles behind his eyes, a dull but persistent throbbing at his temples and a wave of mild nausea. He can ignore the pain, but the memories won't go away. There's no dividing line, no ramparts to fall back behind. Ben Solo, Kylo Ren was always there. Waiting. His fingers are on everything.

Anyway, he can't ask the General, if she has intel that he hasn't seen yet, or if she can feel Ren's spark somewhere among the billions of stars. Maybe, if he could convince himself that he was asking out of kindness to her, and not for selfish reasons…

But he can't. It shames him, but even Poe Dameron isn't that good.

So he doesn't ask. He barely speaks to her outside of briefings. He lets her believe that he's brave, that he's focused on the situation at hand. It's bad enough she knows he broke under torture; he doesn't need her thinking he's become less reliable. They're still fighting a war, after all, and she needs the commander of her fleet.

He lets himself believe that Kylo Ren is dead. Because it's _plausible._ Because he has to.

And he gets on with his life.

_____

They move the base. As the saying goes, if your enemy knows where you are, don't be there. The fact that the First Order is in disarray buys them some time, but Snoke knows about D'Qar, so they have to leave. Fortunately, they've been training for this possibility for years, and General Organa keeps a secret and frequently updated list of potential new locations.

They're gone within a week, with little evidence of their ever having been there. Finn, who's just starting to come around as they're packing up the med bay, worries that Rey and Chewie won't be able to find them if they leave. Drugged to the gills, barely able to lift his head from the pillow, he begs to be allowed to stay. "She waited on Jakku," he insists, clutching weakly at Poe's hand. "She waited for years. Let me wait for her. I'll be okay. I can survive--"

"On what, protein bars? She'll find her way to us, buddy," Poe assures him, squeezing his hand gently. "Trust me, she will." Before she left, Rey made Poe promise he'd look after Finn, and he intends to. She wasn't clear on specifics, and he didn't ask, but he imagines talking Finn out of marooning himself for her sake falls under that heading. Of course, he can't say that to _Finn_ , so instead he starts to tell him about his own parents, how they met at the rebel base on Yavin 4 during the war against the Empire. How they fell in love, but were separated during the evacuation. "Obviously they found each other again," he says. "I'm the proof, right here. And they didn't even have the Force to guide them. She'll find you again."

Poe always liked the story of his parents' prolonged courtship, always found it romantic. A part of him wishes he hadn't made it sound quite so romantic to Finn - and for now he's refusing to think about possible reasons why - but at least Finn's smiling, albeit in a rather abstracted way. Poe sweeps the pad of his thumb across Finn's knuckles before lowering his hand back to his side. As he does, a corner of Finn's mouth tugs upward a fraction more, and yes, most of that smile is Rey's, but a portion of it belongs to Poe and _nope, we are not thinking about that either, not now, possibly not ever_.

Fortunately, there's a lot still to do, and it's easy to avoid thinking about things when there's a lot to do.

_____

For the first week or so, he spends most of his evenings in his new quarters, which are as cramped and utilitarian as the old ones, composing and recording messages of condolence to the families of the pilots he lost taking out Starkiller. Those they have on file, anyway. Those that weren't on Hosnian Prime. Poe knew each and every pilot personally, so he wants to take his time, make sure he gets the words just right. As the hours slip by, BB-8 chirrups at him occasionally, reminding him that it's late; everyone else with any sense is asleep; Poe has to get up in six hours; in four hours; Karé or Iolo can help… But Poe won't let anyone help him and he won't go to bed until he's gone through all the names on his list.

When he finally does flop into bed, he finds it hard to keep his eyes closed, and he moves restlessly under the covers for the remainder of the night.

_____

He lets his surviving pilots grieve - and tries not to think of them as _his surviving pilots_ \- letting them know that he's there for them if they need someone to talk to; he can also find them a counselor if they prefer; and if they need to take time off to see their families, he can try to arrange that as well. Getting leave isn't easy, but Poe always has favors he can call in, and he's willing to use them on his pilots. Some take him up on the latter offer, but most stick around and he's quietly grateful, though he knows that not everyone has a family to go back to.

"I don't suppose I can talk you into following your own advice?" L'ulo says to him once, coming up behind him while he's doing some rewiring on _Black One_. The veteran pilot is smiling, but his eyes are somber. 

"And do what?" Poe asks sardonically, brushing the hair out of his eyes with the back of his wrist and leaving a smear of grease across his forehead. He has the feeling he knows where this is going and he wants to divert L'ulo if he can. "Skip out and spend a week lounging on the beaches of Corellia? I still got my tan from Jakku."

"Don't even try charming me, son."

"I wasn't--"

"I've known two generations of Damerons," L'ulo reminds him pointedly. "Your father was better at it. Speaking of Kes, how long has it been since you saw him?"

Poe is silent.

"That long?" The seams of L'ulo's long green face deepen as his smile fades. "Why don't you go see him? I'm sure he misses you, and we can spare you for a few days."

Poe shakes his head. "There's too much to do." That's one excuse, anyway.

"Does it all need to be done by you? You know, I had a similar conversation with your mother after Endor. You're entitled to a life, or what else are we fighting for?"

But Poe doesn't want to hear this. He can talk to Finn about his family because to Finn they're just stories about people he's never met, from places he's never been. But L'ulo flew in Green Squadron with his mother during the war against the Empire, actually stayed at the ranch on Yavin 4 a few times, and knew Poe as a child. So he says, "You tell me. You've been fighting these bastards longer than I've been alive." 

He regrets his words and his sharp tone instantly. L'ulo deserves better. Guilt squirming in his stomach, Poe offers a bland smile and starts to apologize, but L'ulo waves it aside. "I told you, son, save the charm for those who aren't immune." He doesn't sound angry, just tired, which only makes Poe feel worse. "Sometimes I feel like I've lived all this before. You want to celebrate your victory, but you can't stop thinking about the cost. And if you're a leader, you feel like you have to be strong for everyone. Poe, you're allowed to grieve too. You're allowed to miss home."

Poe can't contradict single thing he's said, so he just continues smiling, and nods as though in agreement. L'ulo is right, and more importantly, he's trying genuinely to be kind. He's been looking out for Poe for years, since he joined the Naval Academy - and even before that, really. Poe was only eight when his mother died, and her funeral is largely a blur. But he does remember L'ulo standing in their kitchen afterward, while Kes lay down for a nap, cooking up meals for them to freeze and thaw out later, when they needed them. Poe remembers sitting at the kitchen table, his short arms wrapped around the back of a chair, watching L'ulo's saturnine face as he worked, listening as he told stories - his voice only occasionally snagging - about how brave Shara Bey was, and what an honor it had been to fly with her.

Poe hates that he can't tell L'ulo, of all people, why he can't go home. He wishes that he could, but he can't.

_____

It's been almost three years since Poe last saw his father, and he misses him. Of course he misses him. There are times when the need to be _home_ is so powerful, it's like a gnawing in his stomach, and he'd give almost anything to be sitting on the front porch of his father's ranch house, knocking back a cold beer - the beer is _good_ on Yavin 4 - while the daylight fades and the sighs of the whisper birds starts to rise from the surrounding treetops.

More than anything, Poe wants for his father to crush him in a hug, to hear him whisper in his ear that he's proud, and that if his mother were here, she'd be proud too. Just like he did the day Poe left for the Academy. And the day he graduated. And the day he flew home to announce that he'd made lieutenant. 

The thing is, though.

The thing is. There's something his mind flinches away from, and it's the fact that he isn't sure his father _would_ be proud, because there's a part of Poe that isn't. He doesn't feel brave. He hasn't since - well, since Jakku.

And Kylo Ren was on Yavin 4. As a small child, yes - but he was there. He sat on that porch. He ate at that kitchen table. He's still there in Poe's memory of the place.

Anyway, he can't go home.

_____

He takes his squadrons out flying as often as he can, leading them in practice maneuvers, letting them do what they're good at. There isn't one of them that doesn't feel more confident, more in control when they're in an X-wing cockpit, and they need that right now.

Poe is no exception, and he knows it. There's something about climbing up through a strong headwind, the joystick gripped tight in his hand. Piercing the clouds and then the thermosphere, watching through the transparisteel canopy as the dome of the sky darkens from blue to black, and the stars appear, dim at first, and then suddenly, dazzlingly bright. There's a rush of adrenalin which can feel like bravery, and in the moment that follows, everything inside him slows. He's moving through space at sublight speed, but he can't feel the air filling his lungs. He can't feel his heartbeat. 

It's the best feeling in the galaxy. The only thing that comes close is orgasm - and he's spent twenty-odd years avoiding thinking about the implications of _that_.

It's enough to make him forget what happened. Not the holes in his squadrons' formations, but what happened to him personally. And that's good. He can focus on his pilots without being distracted by his own issues.

Despite their losses, they're still a strong team; they fly well together.

He likes bringing them in close to sunset, when the clouds are soft and pink, and the burnished light slants through notches in the mountains, flooding the cockpit and turning everything gold. There's a lake near the base, and he has a tendency to come down low over it, sending sheets of mist up into the air. It's a flashy move, but he doesn't see anything wrong with showing off on occasion. Sometimes, if the angle of the sun is just right, he can get a rainbow, and he always points it out to BB-8 who, of course, has no idea why the refraction of light through water should cause delight. But he whirrs with appreciation anyway, because it makes Poe happy and - it just makes Poe happy. That's a rarer phenomenon these days, and it usually only lasts until he lands. Though if Finn is waiting for him on the runway, it can last a little longer.

_____

He's sent out on the occasional mission, mostly retrievals - intel, supplies, surviving Republic officials who suddenly support the Resistance - though sometimes it's reconnaissance. He's rarely sent out alone, and he wonders about that. It's not that he doesn't enjoy the company; he likes having someone to talk to, and he doesn't particularly care who gets the credit, so long as the mission is completed successfully. But he can't help wondering if someone up the chain of command has doubts about his ability to pull off a successful solo run. It's hard to blame them after Jakku, though he wishes they'd give him the chance to prove himself. Not so much that he's willing to give his companion the slip, but…

Or maybe someone simply thinks there's better safety in numbers. It's hard to argue with that, considering they don't know where Snoke and any of his surviving officers might be hiding ( _but not Kylo Ren,_ he thinks) or what the First Order could be planning next. The Empire had already started work on a second Death Star well before Luke Skywalker blew up the first one. Given the way history seems to repeat itself, it's hard to imagine the First Order lacking similar foresight.

That's probably it. If the leaders of the Resistance truly doubted him, they wouldn't send him out at all.

_____

He greets the new recruits as they begin to trickle in from all over the galaxy. It's easy to get caught up by their energy. They're incensed by what happened and they want to fight. He has to remind them that the Resistance isn't about revenge.

"Really?" one of the recruits - a Core world woman - demands, looking at him with her arms crossed, her chin raised. Poe looks around and sees the same skeptical expression on the faces of many others. Before he can speak, the woman continues: "Didn't you used to fly for the New Republic Navy? Don't you want to kill as many of those kriffing bucketheads as you can?"

Poe, who's been hanging out with Finn, listening to his horror stories about stormtrooper training, thinks, _No._ But he looks in the woman's eyes, sees the pain beneath the anger, and all he can say is, "The Resistance isn't about revenge. It's about--" What, exactly? Safety? How safe did they keep the people on Hosnian Prime? "--Freedom. And justice." The words ring a bit hollow, and he's not sure how many of them actually believe him; if any of them asked him to explain just what he means by freedom and justice, he's not sure he could. But does that really matter? Ultimately, they're all here for their own reasons. The important thing is that they're here.

_____

He discusses tactics with General Organa, Major Ematt, Admiral Statura, and Admiral Ackbar. The Resistance may not be about revenge, but there's no point in sitting around, waiting for the First Order to attack. Finn is there for some of these meetings, looking nervous but determined to be helpful. Poe stands as close to him as he can without raising eyebrows, supporting him with discreet nods and smiles when he starts to seem overwhelmed.

Nobody here is intimidating when they don't want to be, but Finn isn't used to being treated with respect, like someone whose ideas and opinions matter. So he stumbles at first, prefacing half his statements with reminders that he was only ever a nameless grunt - literally nameless - and it's not like General Hux or Captain Phasma ever discussed anything important in front of him. 

But he knows armaments. It turns out he knows a _lot_ about armaments. And troop strength, and the types of combat they're trained for. And once you get him going, once it dawns on him that _he actually knows this stuff_ , Finn is a wealth of information. And he's delighted to share what he knows. Poe watches him, watches the way his whole face lights up when Statura praises his attention to detail or when the General says warmly, "Yes, yes, this is something we can use--"

And he feels his throat tighten inexplicably. Watching Finn, he can't help remembering his first mission for the General, which was the capture of the _Hevurion Grace_. It was two years ago, but it feels… He swallows and tries not to fidget, lest he draw attention. 

It feels like a lifetime ago. And with that thought, a strange detachment slips over him and it's like he's watching this scene through someone else's eyes. He's cold and he can't move. There's a glare that won't go away, no matter how hard he tries to ignore it. It steals under his half-lowered lids, harsh and bright. It won't go away. 

He startles when someone says, "Do you agree with that assessment, Commander Dameron?"

Blinking, he looks around, sees that everyone's eyes are on him. Finn is watching him expectantly, no doubt waiting for Poe to back up whatever it is he was saying.

Poe clears his throat, takes a mechanical step toward the table and the holographic image they've been studying. "Yes," he says slowly, and the smile that Finn flashes is like a tractor beam, reeling him back to himself. And he thinks, _That was weird, but I'm fine. Everything's all right. I'm fine._

 

Sometimes he's aware of General Organa's eyes following him as he leaves the briefing room. He knows she's thinking of calling him back - he can tell from the brief glimpse he catches of her as he half-turns in the doorway - but she lets him go without a word. And a part of him is unaccountably angry and wants for her to call him back. And a part of him is relieved when she doesn't because there's sadness in her brown eyes, and he knows what she's going to ask him, and he can't lie, not to her.

He's not brave.

_____

He spends time with Finn. To be honest, Finn is probably the best thing in his life right now; seeing him is usually the high point of Poe's day and he looks forward to it so transparently that some in his squadrons have begun to rib him about it. Iolo and Karé are particularly merciless, but they've known him the longest so they think they can get away with it. It's a little sad, and no doubt a sign of how deeply he's fallen, but - they can.

"Off to see your hero?" Karé sing-songs as he all but stumbles down _Black One_ 's ladder, landing hard on the runway and tossing his helmet to a waiting technician. 

"Give him a kiss for us," Iolo chimes in, and the sound of their laughter follows Poe as he jogs back to the base, the afternoon sun hot on his back, BB-8 at his heels.

They think they're clever, but they have no idea. This thing he has with Finn is unlike any relationship he's ever been in before. He's not even sure he should be calling it a relationship, since nothing's really happening between them, though not for lack of wanting on his part. Finn is fumbling his way toward feeling like a real person, and Poe is trying to be there for him. 

It hasn't always been easy.

_____

Though Finn regained consciousness after only a few days, his recovery has been slow. They're low on bacta - they're low on supplies, period - and a lightsaber blow to the spine isn't something you just bounce back from. He's mostly fine while he's drugged - a bit loopy, occasionally tearful, in general just glad to be alive and in the safe hands of the Resistance - but once they start weaning him off the nullicaine, once he's able to hold a complete thought in his head for longer than a few minutes, he becomes depressed.

He's depressed about Han Solo. ("He wasn't _nice_ ," he tries to explain to Poe, "but he was _good_. In the end, he trusted me. He was the third person who ever trusted me, and I couldn't save him. I just let him die. I had a clear shot at Kylo Ren and I didn't take it." And Poe reminds Finn that he once had a clear shot at Kylo Ren too, and he did take it, and all it did was give away his position and get him captured. He tells Finn this thinking that it might make him feel better, but it doesn't.)

He's depressed that he was injured at all - and failed to protect Rey after she was knocked unconscious. ("I thought he killed her," he confesses brokenly. "I mean, I thought he was going to kill her if I didn't stop him. But I couldn't stop him. He was too strong. He was _more_ than strong, he was--" At this point, Poe reaches for his hand and holds it. He says steadily, "Kylo Ren - he was strong with the Dark Side of the Force. You know that. Only someone with Jedi powers had any hope of taking him down. The fact that you stood against him as long as you did--" "Was?" Finn interrupts. Poe bites his lip. He wants to tell Finn that Kylo Ren is dead; he doesn't think he's ever wanted anything so badly in his life. _He's gone. You're safe, buddy. He'll never hurt you or Rey or anyone else ever again._ But something stops him from saying the words, even though it's plausible. Instead he says, "I blew up Starkiller Base, and it took the whole planet with it, so…" He stops there, his glance sliding uncomfortably away from Finn's hopeful eyes. Finn's sigh strikes him like a jab to the throat, actually making it painful to swallow, and it's some moments before he can lift his gaze, offer a weak smile. He never actually says the words, but he knows how Finn will interpret what he said - and he lets him.)

_He was on the planet when it blew. There wasn't time for him to get to a ship. He was in the woods, no one could have known where he was. No one could have helped him escape. It's plausible._

He's depressed about being left behind. ("I know she couldn't've waited," he grumbles, his hands curled in fists at his sides, his head tilted toward the ceiling. "I just wish-- I wish she'd waited. She couldn't have, but I wish she had. Not that I would've been any use to her. But I'm useless here. I'd be useless anywhere, so I might as well be useless with her." "You're not useless," says Poe.)

Finn _feels_ useless, though. He couldn't help with the evacuation of D'Qar, and he's still too fragile to help them unpack when they arrive at their new base. He's not supposed to walk unaided - though he tries, of course, and ends up clinging to the medical droid that rushes to assist him back to his bed, breathless and grimacing with pain.

"You're not useless," Poe tells him afterward, squeezing his shoulder. "You're hurt. There's a big difference. Give it time, buddy. You'll be back on your feet before you know it, and there's still gonna be plenty to do, believe me. We need you." _I need you,_ he wants to say, but he figures the kid has enough to deal with at the moment. This is a side of Finn he's never seen, and it worries him. Not that he really knows Finn, Poe has to remind himself; by this point, it's only been three weeks since the _Finalizer_ , and their conversations have been mostly short, due to Finn falling asleep or Poe being called away. But some intuition tells Poe that this is not Finn's true nature, that he shouldn't feel so cynical, so defeated.

"We wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for you," he goes on, his hand still on Finn's shoulder. "None of us would be. If you hadn't found a way to disable their shields, it would've been just like Hosnian Prime. One blast from that weapon, and it would've been over. Finn, you stopped the First Order from winning. You're a _hero._ "

 

Finn isn't comfortable with that designation, Poe swiftly learns. He bears it when the General praises him for helping destroy Starkiller, and he smiles gamely when Snap, Jess, and a number of Poe's other pilots come by to thank him for saving their commander's life. But after they've gone, he turns to Poe and the indulgent good humor crumbles away. 

"I'm not a hero," he insists - quietly, as if he expects someone to pop back in and contradict him. Poe has to lean close to catch his words as they fall. "Everything I did, it was for selfish reasons. When I broke you out of your cell, it was because I needed a pilot. You figured that out right away. I justed wanted to get away from the First Order. Han Solo figured it out too. But the rest of you... " He swallows and looks away. "I went to Starkiller for Rey. It's not that I didn't want to help you, of course I did, but if I had to choose between the Resistance and Rey…"

It's good he's looking away, because at this Poe's own careful control slips; he feels his face become hot, and something sharp and metallic sticks in his throat. In only lasts a moment, but it leaves him shaken. He tries to smile when Finn glances back at him apologetically, and he mostly succeeds.

"It's fine, buddy," he hears himself say. "It doesn't matter why we do what we do, so long as it's the right thing. Don't worry about it."

He can see the momentary doubt in Finn's eyes, and he wonders if Finn realizes that he's talking out of his ass. Of course motives matter. Of course there's a part of him that wants to believe Finn saved him because he thought it was the right thing to do. That Finn looked at him and saw a person. But. It doesn't matter, he tells himself, as he watches the uncertainty slowly fade from Finn's eyes. Finn sees him as a person now. Anyway, Finn drops the subject. So Poe lets it go.

 

In the weeks that follow, Poe does what he can to help Finn feel useful. He talks Dr. Kalonia into letting him inventory medical supplies, and once he's been discharged, Poe finds non-strenuous work for him in the command room, alongside Tabala Zo and Kaydel Ko Connix. They're roughly Finn's age, and they're kind; they'll be good company for him. Somewhat less important, but still a consideration: they like Poe, and they'll say nice things about him - if Finn happens to ask.

(Some balk at the idea of putting a former stormtrooper in the _command_ room and suggest he'd be better off cataloging the names of the Resistance and New Republic dead, but Poe shoots them down. _Finn_ has nothing to atone for. Without his intel, they'd all be dead, every one of them. Besides, who's better suited to recognize a First Order transmission, if one gets intercepted? He's backed up by General Organa, Admiral Statura, and just about anyone who's actually spent any time with Finn since he woke from his coma, and the mutterings of dissent swiftly subside. Figuring he has enough to worry about, Poe doesn't tell Finn about his detractors.)

 

With a little coaxing, he convinces Finn to attend some of those meetings with General Organa, Major Ematt, and the admirals. Afterward, they debrief each other in Poe's quarters and Finn smiles because yeah, Poe was right, that wasn't so scary, and he feels like he might actually have done something helpful - on purpose! Poe laughs and claps him on the back, his strange detachment momentarily forgotten. "Welcome to the Resistance, buddy! You kept insisting you weren't one of us, now look at you. We'll have you flying an X-wing in no time. It's destiny. It's the Force." Finn hugs his knees and looks away briefly. "I believe in the Force," he admits. "I guess I kind of have to now, huh? I don't know if I believe in destiny." But Poe does.

 

He shows Finn how to do basic maintenance on BB-8, and tries to teach him what some of those beeps and whistles actually mean. "They all sound the same," Finn insists after half an hour, throwing his hands in the air. BB-8 burbles indignantly. "Yeah, I didn't understand that either! You know what I think, Poe Dameron? I think you only _think_ he's saying words. I think you've gone space-crazy - one too many jumps to hyperspace - and you're just making stuff up to mess with me. Hey!" he squawks as BB-8 zaps him - mildly - in the leg. "Trust me," says Poe, wiping away tears of laughter with the heel of his palm, "you'll pick it up. It's all about tone. And, okay, a few other things. You just gotta give it time, buddy."

 

(He hopes they have time. Now that he's back on his feet, Finn sometimes seems restless, and he talks about Rey a lot. So far as Poe's aware, neither she nor Chewbacca have tried contacting the Resistance since they left, and naturally, Finn's worried. They all are, though Poe is certain they'd know if something tragic befell them. The General is strong with the Force; she'd know. But this doesn't do much to quell Finn's fears, and Poe knows he's thinking about going after her. He _can't_ : even if Finn knew how to fly, the Resistance doesn't have an extra ship lying around that they can just give to him. Besides, Rey took the completed map with her. 

Poe supposes he could drop Finn off somewhere if he decided he wanted to leave the Resistance. He would, if Finn ever asked him. It wouldn't be desertion, since he never really signed up. Finn's a free man: he can do what he wants, go where he pleases. 

Every night before Poe lies down to try to sleep, he thanks the Force that Finn hasn't asked him.)

 

On warm afternoons, they swim in the lake beyond the base, and at first Finn is embarrassed by his scars - mostly he's afraid people will see them and feel the need to tell him once again what a hero he is - but Poe points out that they all have scars. "You should see some of mine," he says, realizing belatedly how suggestive that sounds. He glances down and away, grateful for the sun's glare, hiding his sudden flush and essentially blinding him. He's grateful as well that the water he's standing in his waist-deep, and on the chilly side. Nonetheless, he's _intensely_ aware of Finn's scrutiny, of his glistening broad shoulders and chest, of the taut belly and the inviting dip of his navel. He's aware like he's aware of his own breathing, quick and ragged in his lungs. _This was not a clever plan,_ Poe thinks as Finn moves a little toward him; he still isn't _looking_ , he still can't quite _see_ , but he's _aware_ , oh, is he aware. _In what universe would this have been a clever plan?_

He's saved by Jess Pava, who comes splashing up behind Finn, and with a wild whoop, catches him by the shoulders and tackles him under the water. She's half his size, but he goes down easily, and Poe barks with laughter as they come up spluttering, spitting out lake water. He's been laughing more and more these days, he thinks; whether or not that means he's moved beyond what happened, he doesn't know. It's a good feeling, though. He stops laughing when Jess and Finn turn their attention to him and start moving in his direction. "Don't--" he protests feebly, but then they're on him, and he has to contend with Finn's smooth, wet skin, his strong hands, and that blinding smile. Luckily, Snap, Karé, and Bastian show up to assist in dunking their commander, and it's hard to maintain a half-boner in the face of such disloyalty.

_____

They tell each other stories. At first Finn insists that he doesn't really have any; he can't remember anything before the First Order, and his days as a stormtrooper were pretty routine. "You don't want to hear any of that," he tells Poe. "It's boring."

"I bet it ain't. C'mon, tell me. If you want," he adds, because Finn truly seems hesitant. 

So Finn tells him slowly, sometimes falteringly, about his life as a stormtrooper. And it's not boring. It's _heartbreaking._ But Poe listens, never interrupting, though sometimes he reaches out and squeezes Finn's knee.

This is how he learns about Slip - FN-2003 - the trooper in Finn's fire-team who wasn't his friend, but whom he tried to look out for anyway because he was slower, clumsier than the others. Always slipping behind, slipping up. "I was the only one in my fire-team without a nickname," Finn adds as an aside, shrugging. "I never knew why, though I guess it was a sign I didn't really belong. I never thought about it. I never had any kind of name until I met you. Anyway," he continues, lowering his eyes, "Slip was killed on Jakku. He was standing right next to me when he got shot."

"When I shot him," Poe says quietly. He tries to remember the scene, but it's all a chaotic blur: black smoke and laser fire, the terrified screams of the villagers… Had there been two stormtroopers standing side by side? He can't remember. He is _not_ , he tells himself with a deep shudder, going to think about how easily he could have shot Finn instead. If he starts down that path, he's pretty sure that's all he's ever going to be able to think about for the rest of his life. 

"I'm sorry," says Poe.

"It's okay," says Finn tonelessly. "It was a battle. I knew I wasn't going to be able to protect him forever. Anyway, he believed in the Order, so he probably would've shot at you or the villagers."

"Still…"

"It's okay."

 

Finn would rather listen to Poe's stories. He likes hearing about his childhood on Yavin 4: about the times his mother took him flying in her old RZ-I A-wing, and the times he and his father went camping among the Massassi ruins. Finn has no memory of his parents, so he's intrigued by Poe's. He wants to know everything about them: what they looked like, what they ate, what they did for a living. It occurs to Poe, as he's waxing rhapsodic about his father's tamales - and getting hungrier, the more he talks - that he's probably the first person Finn has ever met who has a backstory he can share. It makes him feel rather special, and oddly shy. It's a different sort of intimacy from what he's used to; it's not that he's never talked to his friends or lovers - any of them will tell you, Poe Dameron is deathly allergic to silence - but he's rarely shared this level of detail.

He's never told anyone else about the night he spent curled up amid the roots of the Force-sensitive tree that grew behind his parents' home, waiting for it to talk to him, imagining sometimes that it had.

("What did it say?" Finn asks. "What did you want it to say?" "I don't know. Something about my mother, probably. It was right after she died, and I missed her." "Oh.")

Nor has he ever told anyone about how he started to learn Binary by chasing after other people's droids, mimicking their sounds until he finally recognized a pattern.

("I was young, all right? And there weren't that many kids my age, so I wanted to talk to the droids. Quit laughing." "I can't. I'm picturing it, and it's super cute. _How_ old were you?" " _Young._ ")

It's been a long time, probably almost a decade, since he told anyone about his first firefight - a skirmish with pirates near Sullust - and how scared he was afterward. "Not during," he says emphatically, "after. It just sort of hit me all at once on the way back to the station, and I nearly broke the landing struts off the T-85 they had me flying, I brought it down so hard. Some of the technicians weren't too happy, but my CO - L'ulo, actually - was understanding. I got really drunk that night. _Really_ drunk. Been _told_ I snuck back into the hangar bay and just … sat there." He drags a rueful hand through his hair. "Apologizing to the ship, I guess. Until some maintenance droids ratted me out. I honestly don't remember." It seems funny to him in retrospect, but Finn nods solemnly, like Poe's story has some sort of deeper meaning - and for all he knows, it does. But Finn doesn't say anything and Poe doesn't press him. That's not how this works.

Just about the only things they don't talk about are sex - Finn has revealed enough that Poe is sure he's never done it, though he's clearly aware of the mechanics, mostly - and what happened on Jakku - apart from Slip's death - and the _Finalizer._ And that's fine. Poe thinks that Finn might be amused by some of his early sexual exploits - not to brag, just to demystify the whole thing - but he doesn't mind saving those stories for another time, when Finn's a little more comfortable. As for the other thing … Poe doesn't want to talk about what happened that night. 

As he shares his past with Finn, offering up stories in lieu of anything else he might ordinarily use to win someone over, he can feel the ghost of Kylo Ren receding until he's all but invisible, a pale scar to mark the site of a jagged wound. He's never gone, but it's possible to forget he's there. During the day, anyway. And even at night he appears only seldom, cold fingers brushing the edges of Poe's nightmares. Then he wakes up sweating, his heart pounding, his head throbbing dully. But when he opens his eyes he sees BB-8, glowing softly as he charges in his cradle. And it will be morning soon, and he'll have breakfast with his squadrons. And he'll see Finn.

 

He gives Finn the access code to his quarters. He does it for mostly unselfish reasons; he made that promise to Rey, and Finn still has bouts of depression and uncertainty. They don't come that often anymore, but something twists in Poe's stomach when they do. Finn won't say anything - always a good indication that something's not right, since Finn can be almost as talkative as Poe - but he'll very deliberately take less than his fair share in the mess hall, like he's rationing his portions even though nobody else is, and he'll fret that his quarters or his clothing aren't immaculate. 

They don't do inspections here, unless there's a strong smell, and nobody gives a damn about a scuffed boot or a slightly wrinkled collar. But Poe knows this has nothing to do with the Resistance and everything to do with Finn's First Order training. "Things are different here," Poe says quietly in his ear as they're leaving the mess, and Finn's jaw clenches because he knows, he _knows_. But at the same time he doesn't know; he spent at least twenty years being told something else. So Poe gives him the access code and tells him he can come by anytime he needs to, even if Poe is off-base. He's especially welcome if Poe is away, since he figures that's when Finn will most have need of a friendly, familiar space.

Not that Poe is Finn's only friend here, by this time. He seems to get along well with Jess and some of the other younger pilots and technicians. But Finn looks up at him from under those pinched brows and says in a hopeful, worried tone that shakes Poe to his foundation, "You're sure?"

And maybe, Poe thinks fleetingly, this is not a clever plan. Maybe this is _opposite_ of a clever plan, and somewhere down the line he's going to pay for giving so much of himself and asking for nothing in return. He can see that happening - oh, can he ever. The question is, does he care?

"Um, you're sure?" Finn says again, sounding less certain.

And Poe can't stand that, so he thinks, _Aw, fuck it_ , and clasping Finn's arm, says, "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure." And Finn smiles at him and it's like flying. It's like being back in that stolen TIE-fighter: he has no idea what he's actually doing, but he can fly anything, so. 

So. 

 

And now he's starting to wonder if he was wrong about flying being the best feeling in the galaxy. Maybe it's this: coming home from a mission and finding Finn waiting for him in his quarters, seated at his desk or on his bed, his jacket draped over the back of a chair, his boots set down neatly in front of the closet where Poe keeps his own clothes. As the door opens, Finn looks up, and his smile launches rockets behind Poe's ribs, shattering every shield inside him, including ones he never knew existed.

"You're back," Finn will say if it's been a few days, dropping whatever he was reading or working on and jumping to his feet to engulf Poe in a hug. He's a good hugger, Finn: no limp arms or hands in awkward places, and he knows just when to pull back. Karé and Iolo don't know what they're talking about.

"Yeah, well. BB-8 got homesick." (If he's there, BB-8 tweets an indignant retort.)

"Sure, Poe Dameron."

"So, what've you been up to, buddy?"

"Probably nothing as exciting as what you've been up to."

"Oh, yeah. Supply runs to Coruscant are real exciting."

"Yeah, well. I've never been. So, tell me about it?" With that guileless smile, and those trusting eyes. 

Tell me a story.

Tell me a story.

_____

Some day, Poe thinks, he would like to be able to tell Finn the story of how he fell in love with him. Some day, when he can be sure that he won't scare Finn off, and when he can remember exactly how and when it happened.

It's hard to believe it could have happened on the _Finalizer_ , when Finn put down his blaster and took off his helmet, revealing the first human face - the _only_ human face - that Poe ever saw as the First Order's prisoner. Then again, he's turned his whole life into a collection of stories for Finn, and love at first sight is a thing that happens in stories.

More likely it happened on D'Qar, after the Battle of Takodana, when he glanced up and saw Finn moving toward him through the crowd on the runway. Looking like a miracle in Poe's battered flight jacket. Like a sunrise. Like forgiveness for everything that went wrong on Jakku.

Or maybe it happened when Finn first woke up in the medical bay, and he looked around, scared and confused until his eyes found Poe's. Then he smiled so trustingly, it was all Poe could do not to blurt out, _I blew up Starkiller Base! Ask me to do anything, buddy. Anything in the galaxy, and I'll do it for you._

 

He supposes it doesn't matter when it happened, though if he could pinpoint the exact moment, maybe he could shake this feeling that he's always been in love with Finn; because that's just absurd, even for someone who believes in destiny.

_____

Three months and a handful of days. It isn't exactly the life he wants, but it's a _life_. It's actually more than he hoped for, even before Jakku. It's good enough.

* * * *

It was never going to last. Though he's no more Force-sensitive than any ordinary human being, there must have been a part of him that knew, deep down. That always knew.

He isn't stupid. He hasn't survived thirty-two years in this galaxy, with its multitude of dangers, hasn't risen to the rank of commander in General Leia Organa's Resistance by being wilfully naive. And there's a sort of twisted symmetry as well: by rights, Poe should have died on the _Finalizer_ , or in that TIE-fighter crash on Jakku, or in any one of the daring, reckless maneuvers he's been pulling off since his arms were long enough to reach the joystick of a starfighter. It's only by the grace of the Force - or the grace of Finn - that he survived. Why should he be the only one with such dumb luck?

But it _was_ plausible. He'll always believe that.

 

It's Snap who brings them the intel: security footage from a space station orbiting the aquatic world of Lamaredd, in the Outer Rim Territories. "It's graphic," he warns as he inserts the data chip, avoiding eye contact with those assembled in the briefing room. "Though I guess that goes without saying, since it's First Order. And it's old. According to the time stamp, this happened over three standard weeks ago. So--"

 _So there's nothing we can do,_ Poe thinks, steeling himself for another Tuanul. He's briefly aware of the General's gaze passing over him, and he shivers unaccountably. _I'm fine._ Whatever they're about to see - he can handle it. It's been more than three months; he's past it.

_I'm fine._

And for the first few minutes - he's not _fine_ , because nobody could be _fine_ while watching a squad of stormtroopers assault a station, even if the footage is over three weeks old. But he keeps a handle on himself: he remembers to breathe slowly and evenly, and he keeps his hands clenched in fists at his sides so they won't shake. It helps - if anything can be said to help - that the sound quality is poor, and that the station personnel are not unarmed civilians. They're not soldiers either, but they're in uniform and most of them seem to know how to use a blaster. Not that it does them any good. They're quickly overrun, and those who don't immediately throw down their arms and raise their hands in surrender are gunned down.

Poe swallows and shifts uneasily from one foot to the other. He can feel the General's eyes flick back him and it's all he can do not to squirm under her scrutiny. _I'm fine,_ he wants to yell at her, though of course he doesn't need to. She's a Force-user, if an untrained one; if she wanted to, she could just look inside his head and see that he's fine, he's _fine_.

 _I'm fine._

And perhaps he would have been. He _is_ a soldier, and he might not be brave like he used to be, but he's had a soldier's training, and he's seen this sort of thing before, many times. It's the reason he joined the Resistance in the first place: nobody should be made to fear like the people in Snap's flickering hologram. Nobody should be forced to their knees by armed men in masks. Nobody.

He's cold, and his heart is beating much too quickly; it's a wonder none of the others can hear it. But nobody's looking at him now, not even the General. Their attention is drawn to the recorded scene, and Poe finds that he can look away from it, he doesn't have to keep watching, because he knows how it's going to end. He looks instead at the faces of the people around him, at Snap, Statura, Ackbar, and Ematt (Finn isn't here, he doesn't know where Finn is right now, but he's glad he's not here) before finally coming to rest on the General. Her head is bowed so he can't see her eyes, just the crease between her brows and the crimped corners of her mouth. Her arms are crossed guardedly over her chest.

He wants her to look at him now, and he doesn't know why, he doesn't know anything except that he's alone in this room full of people and he's not fine. She could bring him back with a glance, but she doesn't look up. Instead, he hears the words she said to him before sending him out on his first mission, the _Hevurion Grace_ mission, echoing back across time and space like the light from a long-dead star: _This is_ not _an order. It could go very, very wrong, and if it does, the Resistance would have to deny any involvement. You and anyone you took with you to do this would be on your own._ She said the same thing before all of his missions, before Jakku: _If something goes wrong, you're on your own._

Well. Something went wrong, didn't it? And he's on his own.

It's almost anticlimactic when Kylo Ren's holographic image appears, tiny and flickering but distinctly, unmistakably him in that mask and that cloak. Poe's only physical reaction is a single hitching breath, which nobody hears because he's alone, watching this scene from a remote satellite.

Watching a pair of stormtroopers grab the arms of one of the kneeling captives - a Twi'lek woman - jerk her roughly to her feet, and, with the muzzles of their blasters, propel her toward Ren. 

(They kicked Poe's legs out from under him, and he waits, the air frozen in his lungs, for them to do it to her, but they let her stand.)

"I want the name, class, and model of every ship that has entered this system in the past three standard months." His voice, distorted by the mask and the quality of the recording, is just as Poe remembers it: calm, almost playful, but with a threatening undercurrent, like distant thunder.

( _The old man gave it to you._

_Where is it?_

_The Resistance will not be intimidated by you!_ )

But this woman isn't Resistance. She isn't a soldier. Maybe there's something she considers worth dying for, but it's not anything on this space station. So he doesn't blame her when she bobs her head, her eyes lowered, her long blue tentacles swaying against the backs of her shoulders. He doesn't blame her at all.

The figures vanish as the recording ends. There's a moment's silence, broken by Snap clearing his throat. "They complied," he says, his voice thin and raw. "They were slaughtered anyway. All of them."

The General closes her eyes briefly and nods. "Yes. I'm not surprised. He's looking for the _Millennium Falcon._ Somehow, he's figured out that Luke is on one of the aquatic planets."

"How?" says Major Ematt.

"I don't know."

But that's a lie, thinks Poe. Ren captured Rey on Takodana. Rey had seen the map. He must have taken it from her mind before she freed herself. He's dimly aware that that doesn't make total sense: no one could tell, just from looking at a starmap, which worlds were aquatic. But he doesn't dwell on that because all he can see is Rey, strapped to a table like he was, in one of the First Order's torture cells. Restraints on her wrists and ankles. Afraid. ( _Nobody should be made to fear like that._ ) And that gloved hand moving toward her, the fingers outstretched. Those cold fingers. Picking through her memories, like they picked through his. He can still feel them. He's going to be sick.

Admiral Statura says, "What do we do now? There are thousands of inhabited aquatic worlds. Even if he's searching each of them personally, which I highly doubt, our window of opportunity is staggeringly compressed."

"I'll send a message to Luke," says the General. "Though I doubt this will come as any surprise to him."

Poe says, or hears himself say, "I'll go after him. After - Kylo Ren." He stumbles over the name and he can't meet the General's eyes. "I'll take Black Squadron, or whoever's willing. Snap?"

"You lead, I follow, boss."

"No," says the General. She unfolds her arms, places her hands on the table in front of her. Poe can feel her gaze probing his, trying to get him to look at her, but he won't. "Nobody is going after him. We don't know where he is," she continues, cutting off his protest, "and you know that I can't spare you. _Any_ of you."

 _Why are you protecting him?_ He hates the thought, wants to fling it from him in disgust. "I'll go alone," he says. "You can spare _one_ pilot. I can get the telemetry from the space station's computers, have BB-8 calculate the trajectory of the ships--"

"The space station's gone," Snap interjects quietly. "They blew it up."

"Lamaredd has satellites. I'll get it from there! I know it's old data, I'll be a few steps behind, but I'll catch up eventually."

"And what then?" says Admiral Ackbar. "One X-wing against a squadron of TIE-fighters?"

"I can do it," says Poe, trying not to sound like he's pleading, although - fuck it - that's exactly what he's doing. "Let me go. I'm the best pilot in the Resistance. _Let me go._ "

"No," says the General.

He should feel something: rage, maybe. She doesn't think he can do it. She doesn't even want to let him try.

Of course, he thinks. Kylo Ren is her son. If Poe finds him, he'll kill him, and she can't let him do that. She thinks there's still good in him.

He wants to feel something. Anything. But he's so cold, and he can't look at anyone.

He hears the General say, "I want to speak with Commander Dameron alone."

Shit, he's in trouble now, and he should care. He _should_ care. His career is on the line, and his career is - everything. He has no life outside the Resistance; Finn is practically part of the Resistance now, wasn't Poe just teasing him about that the other week?; his friends in the New Republic Navy are all dead; and he can't go home to Yavin 4.

"Poe." It's the General. She's moved around to his side of the table and is standing close to him; he can feel it, though he didn't hear her move, didn't hear the others leave. Snap might have clapped him on the shoulder on the way out. He doesn't remember, but his shoulder tingles, so maybe he did. 

"Poe, we're not going to do nothing, but I can't let you go after him. Not like this. If you do, you won't come back. _Someone_ might, but it won't be the man we know."

"So?" he spits out. "There was always a chance I wouldn't come back. Every time. That never bothered you before."

"It did," she tells him, and her voice is steady, calm, which for some reason has the opposite of its intended effect; his heart keeps pounding, and now it's in his head as well: that dull, persistent throbbing that's followed him out of who knows how many nightmares. "It did bother me," she continues, "every time. But I let you go because you were the best man for the job. You knew what you were getting into, and I judged the potential gain to be worth the risk. This time is different. There's nothing to be gained from this action. I can't let you go. Look at me, please."

He does, because she asks it. He would do anything for her, if she would only ask. He looks into her sad brown eyes and tries not to flinch as she draws nearer still, saying, "It's taken thirty years, but I think I'm finally starting to see. There's no point - to any of this - if we lose what we're fighting for in the process."

He stares at her blankly, so she tilts her head and offers him a wan smile, the fine lines around her lips softening. "Our _children_ , Poe."

He doesn't move. He _can't_ move, not even to laugh. But something in his expression must have altered because her own face twists with sudden horror. " _Poe_ ," she whispers, sounding stricken, and that's the end of him. He starts to shake and he can't stop. He's so cold, and he can't stop shaking, and he does hear her next words, flung out to him like a lifeline from across a wide distance: "I meant you. Poe, I meant _you_ \--"

But it's too far, and it's too late. He's back in that cell, strapped to that table. He never left. He tries to be strong, but it hurts. He isn't brave. It hurts and he breaks. He breaks and breaks.

_____

He's on the floor and someone is holding him. It's Leia, he thinks, though she's never held him close like this, not even when she came to Yavin 4 all those years ago, when he was just a child. But he can feel the coolness of her ring on the nape of his neck, and she was the only one in the room when he collapsed, so it must be her. "Shh," she murmurs, rubbing slow circles into the hunched muscles of his back. "Shh, it's all right. I'm here."

He makes a small, choked sound, not quite a sob, and buries his face in her shoulder. This is wrong, he thinks. This is so wrong: she's the General, she's _royalty._ She shouldn't be on the floor like this, on her _knees_ , holding him as if he were… He can't finish the thought.

"It's all right," she says again, close to his ear. "It's all right. Poe, I'm so sorry."

She has nothing to apologize for, not to him. He wants to tell her that - he _hates_ the pain in her voice - but when he tries to lift his head, the hand cupping his neck moves to the crown of his head, and he sags back against her.

"I could sense that you were in pain," she says while she strokes his hair, "and I ignored it. It was easy to do, most of the time: you never let it affect your work, and you seemed … you seemed to be getting along well enough. I knew you had friends here who were looking out for you. So I didn't say anything. I was in denial." She draws in a long, unsteady breath and when she lets it out, the warmth of it fans across his temple, prickling his skin. "My son is gone. I should have known that when you came back to us, after Jakku. You told me what he did. What didn't go into your official report, I could see in your eyes. And I still let Han go after him. I _urged_ him to go. I let him die, and I let you suffer."

Her fingertips are cool against his scalp. She isn't in his head - he thinks he would know if she were - but feelings long suppressed are beginning to surface, like silt rising from the bottom of a churned-up stream. He never wanted to give voice to them, but her honesty pierces his defenses and he finds himself mumbling with shame, "After Jakku … I didn't want to be angry with you. I tried not to be, but I was."

"Be angry," she says.

He shakes his head. "Wasn't your fault. It was my choice, taking that mission. You didn't know what would happen."

"So? Anger isn't always rational. You're allowed to feel. Sometimes you _need_ to feel." She laughs briefly, without humor. "I wouldn't have made a very good Jedi, though my brother would probably argue with that. There's anger in me. There always has been. Sometimes I think it's the only thing that's kept me going all these years. And other times…" She cups his face, gently tipping back his head so he she can look into his eyes. "It's when we lose ourselves to our anger that we become dangerous. That's when we lose ourselves. That's why I'm not letting you go after him. I'm not trying to protect him; I'm trying not to lose you."

He doesn't trust his voice, so he nods.

Sweeping the pad of her thumb across his dry cheek, she says, "You're allowed to be angry. Something was done to you that should never be done to anyone, and you are allowed to be angry. You're human. You're allowed to hurt. You're allowed to need time to heal."

Suddenly he knows where this is headed and he wants to tell her _no, don't take this away from me too,_ but there's a thorn pinning the words to the back of his throat, and all he can do is sit there and listen as she continues with crushing inevitability, "I want you to take some time off. You're not being punished, but this isn't a request. No missions, no training drills for at least a week, and then we'll see. I also want you to see a counselor." She caresses his cheek again and now he has to close his eyes because he's starting to think that he might cry after all. If he's grounded, he's useless.

"You're _not_ useless," Leia says firmly, "you're hurt. You're also exceedingly easy to read," she adds somewhat apologetically when his eyes snap back open and he glares at her through his tears, too weak to actually recoil. "I think you must get that from your father. Shara once told me that Kes had the worst poker face in the galaxy." She favors him with a limp smile, then reaches up to brush some of the matted hair away from his forehead. "I'm sorry, but you're going to learn something I never could, which is to put yourself first. And then you can come back to work, because we do need you - very much." She grimaces. "But before any of that happens, you're going to help me up; I'm not young, and this is not good for my knees."

 

He doesn't remember much of what followed. He must have found the strength to climb to his feet, and then he must have reached down and helped her to hers. And together they must have made their way slowly down the long hallway to his quarters, because that's where he finds himself now, lying flat on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling. He doesn't remember passing anyone on the way here, but he had to have, right? He hopes there weren't too many witnesses. He thinks that maybe he and Leia paused in his doorway, and she turned to him and said, "I'll make that appointment with the counselor for you. And you'll keep it, or you'll hear from me. But whatever you discuss - that's between the two of you. And before you open your mouth and tell me you're not worth more than anyone else here - that's true. But I meant what I said about children. I didn't know your mother as well as I would have liked, but she was still dear to me. She was very brave, just like you, and a damn fine starfighter pilot. And I won't let her son throw his life away. I owe her - and your father - that much. I owe _you_ that much. You're very dear to me too."

And maybe she touched his brow again with her fingertips. But after that she left him alone.

He doesn't know how much time has passed since then. He could turn his head and look at the timepiece on his desk - but even if he had the energy, he doesn't actually care. It's not as if he has anything to do now, or anywhere to go. Leia - and he does wonder idly just when she flipped from _the General_ back to _Leia_ in his head - said that he wasn't useless. But if he can't do the one thing he's actually good at, what's the point of his even being here? And if he can't be here, what's left for him? A week, she said. Just a week. But they could all be dead in a week. They could all be dead tomorrow. A week might as well be forever. And who's to say he'll be better in a week? Who's to say he'll ever be better? It's been more than three months, and he can still feel it.

At some point, the door opens and BB-8 rolls in, burbling dolefully. [Poe. Poe.]

Poe stares at the ceiling.

BB-8 pauses in the middle of the floor, whirring softly to himself. Thinking. After a moment he starts to chatter again: [Poe, look up. Poe. Poe, look .]

Poe looks. There's a smear of colored bars on the ceiling above his bed. BB-8 is projecting a rainbow for him.

[Poe, smile.]

Poe curls onto his side and closes his eyes.

[Poe.] BB-8's distress is like a barb in his throat, and he tries to shut it out by clenching his body tighter. BB-8 croons at him for a little while, then falls silent.

Poe drifts; he's not sure for how long. He can feel the minutes marching over him, but he doesn't bother counting. So it could be an hour before the door slides open again, or it could be much sooner. He hears it and thinks that it must be BB-8 finally leaving, and he thinks that he should feel _something_ at that, but he doesn't, he can't. 

BB-8 trills a greeting. And Finn says in a voice high-pitched with worry, "Poe--"

He's not going to cry.

[Poe is malfunctioning.]

"Yeah, I can see that."

[Finn can fix Poe?]

"I … I'm gonna try. If he wants me to."

[Finn can fix Poe.]

He's _not_ going to cry. It was humiliating enough in front of Leia. He can't do it in front of Finn.

There's a soft thud as Finn drops to his knees beside the bed. Poe can smell the sweat on him, and he can hear the hoarse, shallow breaths; he must have come running. Did Leia send for him, or was it BB-8? He can feel Finn's hands moving in the gray air just above him. But Finn doesn't touch him. He seems to want to, but he also seems to understand that Poe will absolutely come apart if he does. He settles for letting his hands rest on the edge of the bed, close enough that Poe can tell where he is without having to open his eyes, but not touching.

"Hey," Finn says softly. "Hey, I'm here. Poe. Can you talk to me? Can you look at me?"

He can't. He can't he can't

"Okay. That's okay. I'm just gonna sit here, all right?"

BB-8 chirps a reminder.

"Me and BB-8 are just gonna sit here. We're not going anywhere. Until you're ready to talk - if you wanna talk. I'll be right here."

But Poe can't let him do that. It's like clawing his way up from the smouldering wreckage of a crashed starfighter, but he manages to mutter, "No."

"No? You want me to leave--?"

"No." Poe shakes his head against the pillow. "You can't stay, though. Kylo Ren is alive. I'm sorry, Finn. I wanted him to be dead - for you. He's alive, and he's after Rey. He's looking for her. You have to--"

Finn expels a breath. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I know."

Poe's eyes open, just a sliver - as much as his crusted lashes will allow. "You - you know that? How--?"

Finn shrugs. "It always seemed too good to be true, him being dead. And I figured, as long as he's alive, of course he's going to be after her."

"You knew," Poe says. "But you never--"

"I didn't _know_ ," Finn clarifies. "But I had a feeling. I wanted him to be dead, though. 'Cause of everything he did. And for you and Rey."

"We're not going to do nothing, Finn, I promise."

"I know."

"You should go and talk to Leia. To the General, I mean. Find out what she has planned. I _think_ she has a plan. She always--"

" _Poe_. I'll talk to her, but right now I'm not going anywhere."

Poe looks up at him, not quite understanding.

"Rey's with Luke Skywalker," Finn says patiently. "He's keeping her safe. They're keeping each other safe," he amends. "The First Order's been looking for Luke Skywalker for years and they haven't found him yet. Wherever they are, they're safe enough for now. They're looking out for each other. Who's looking out for you?"

He isn't going to cry.

"Poe." Finn leans a little closer, not quite curling over him; he still has room to breathe, to escape. But Finn fills his field of vision, so all he can see are those worried dark eyes, and the curve of his frown. "Let me do something." His voice is low, almost a whisper. "Please. You took care of me for months, ever since I woke up. It's my turn now. I'll do anything, just tell me."

There are approximately a thousand wrong ways to respond to an offer like that, but Poe can't work up the strength - or the nerve - for any of them. _Just stay,_ he thinks, but when he opens his mouth what comes out is:

"Tell me a story?"

If the request surprises Finn, it doesn't show. He just nods. "Okay, sure. Which one d'you wanna hear? You know them all. Or I could make something up, if you like. Can't promise it'll be any good, but--"

"You never told me about Jakku. What really happened, why you decided to break free."

"Oh." Finn bites at his lower lip.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to. I just thought--"

"No, no, it's okay. I just--"

"Finn, you _don't_ have to."

"I want to," Finn says decisively. "I've wanted to for a while, I just wasn't sure… It's okay. I'll tell you about Jakku. The parts that you don't know, I mean. There's some other stuff that's sort of … connected." He takes a deep breath. 

"Wait," says Poe. "Not like this. You shouldn't be on the floor. It's wrong."

"I'll bring the chair over."

"You can. Or…" He lets the sentence go unfinished, but Finn understands.

"There isn't much room," he says hesitantly, his glance sliding away from Poe's. "I don't mind," he adds quickly. "It's just - we'd be touching. I don't mind. I sort of - I wanna hold you. But you don't seem…"

Poe can see where Finn's gaze has fallen: to his wrists, which he only just now realizes are crossed protectively over his heart, his fists clenched so tightly that the knuckles are white. Everything about his posture must scream _Stay back! Don't touch!_

"It's okay," he says. 

"You're _sure_?"

"Yeah - yeah." He uncurls one hand and extends it to Finn; he's capable of that much, at least. "C'mere."

Finn shakes his head as he levers himself to his feet. "Poe Dameron…" But he doesn't elaborate. He doesn't say another word until he's stretched out beside Poe, thighs not quite touching, heads turned toward each other on the pillow. "Okay?" he says, taking Poe's hand and bringing it to his chest, and Poe doubts he's ever been quite so conscious of the fine hairs on the back of his wrist, or the delicate skin between his fingers. This isn't exactly holding, but it's close, and something begins to stir below his ribs. It's more a memory than actual feeling and he can't quite put a name to it yet, but at least it's something. "Okay," he echoes back.

"Okay. This is what happened on Jakku. These are the parts you don't know." And he starts to tell Poe about what happened after Slip died: how everything he'd ever learned in training utterly vanished from his mind, and all he could do was stumble around in confusion, his blaster forgotten in his hands. 

"It didn't make any sense," he says, his brow furrowing. "I did really well in training, always got top scores, best in my fire-team. But it didn't even occur to me to try to shoot back, or even take cover. I can't believe I didn't get shot or blown up. It didn't make sense." 

How he turned and found himself face-to-face with a young village woman. "I think she was young. Her face was so dirty, I couldn't tell. She looked at me. She saw the blaster in my hands and she just - she looked at me. We looked at each other. I must've been as frightened as she was, but of course she couldn't see my face. The strange thing was…" The crease between his brows deepens and he looks into Poe's eyes, like he expects to find the answers to all his unspoken questions there. "The strange thing was… We were looking at each other for maybe five seconds, and it was like … I wasn't even feeling my own fear anymore. I was feeling hers. I kept thinking _Let me go, please don't shoot._ But she wasn't even armed. _I_ was.

"I let her go," he continues, as if Poe could possibly think he'd have done anything else. "I don't know if she actually got away. I _hope_ she did, but I guess I'll never know. I never shot at anyone, not even after they gave us a direct order. _Kill them all_ , they said. I should've obeyed without thinking. I was trained my whole life to obey orders without thinking, but I didn't. Couldn't even pretend to. I just felt sick. Afterward - after we got back to the ship - I really was sick."

"Did anyone find out?" Poe asks, wishing he could put his arms around Finn. But Finn is already holding one of his hands, and his other arm is tucked awkwardly between them. He settles for moving the pad of his thumb back and forth across Finn's sternum, hoping Finn can feel it through his shirt.

"I don't know," Finn says. "Before we left Jakku, I caught Kylo Ren looking at me. It seemed weird that he would notice a stormtrooper, but I think he suspected … something. And once we were back on the _Finalizer_ , Phasma caught me with my helmet off. It was against regulations, but I just couldn't breathe. So I think she suspected something too. Asked me to submit my blaster for inspection. So she knew I never fired a shot."

"You must've been in a lot of trouble." It's such a stupid thing to say, but Finn flashes a smile.

"I would've been. If, you know, I hadn't decided to steal the prisoner and defect." The smile fades. "This is the other part I never told you or anyone. I couldn't stop thinking about that woman on Jakku. It didn't make sense that I could feel what she was feeling, so I convinced myself that I'd imagined it all. They try to teach you not to think of civilians as people. They make you do countless sims where you end up having to shoot civilians - they just come out of nowhere, and they get in the way of your objective - and eventually it's not supposed to bother you. It did bother me, though. I tried to pretend it didn't, because I knew that was what they wanted. 

"I thought maybe it was the shock of coming face-to-face with a real civilian - a real _person_ \- and being expected to kill her." He drops his eyes finally, and Poe isn't sure if he's looking at their hands or at something visible only to him. He feels the sigh pass through Finn's frame. Then Finn says, "It wasn't, though. I really felt what she was feeling. And I know that because after we got back to the _Finalizer_ , and they were - torturing you… I felt that too. Not like it was happening to me, but like an echo, I guess. All the pain you were in. All the fear. And the bravery. I knew it wasn't just me, or anyone else on that ship. It was you." His fingers slide over Poe's wrist, and there's something oddly purposeful about it, though for the moment its significance is lost on Poe. "I lied before. I lied to you, and the General, and everyone. I didn't save you because I needed a pilot. I mean, I _did_ need a pilot, and the fact that you were a pilot made things kind of convenient. But if you told me you couldn't fly a TIE-fighter, or if you were too injured to fly, I would've thought of something else. I don't know what, but I would've thought of _something_. I was never going to leave you there to die. I was always going to get you out.

"And not only then." The words come faster now and sound strained, like Finn is running out of breath or thinks that he's running out of time and needs to get all of it out before he's no longer able."When you showed up on Takodana in _Black One_ , I knew it was you. I didn't believe it because I thought you were dead, but a part of me knew, soon as I saw you fly. And then today, I guess when you found out about Kylo Ren, I knew. Nobody told me. I just knew. I was out in the woods doing survival training with some of the new recruits and it hit me, out of nowhere: just this sudden shock, and then so much sadness. It was like … I guess I don't need to tell you what it was like. So I came to find you, to try to get you out of the place where you were stuck. I'll always do that. I'll always come to get you. If," he mumbles, "that's what you want."

 

In the quiet that follows, Poe lies very still. This isn't peace, he thinks. This is the calm that comes after a battle, or one of those wild rainstorms that every so often tear across the northeastern face of Yavin 4, where Poe grew up; bending back the trees, leaving the air swollen, and the sky the color of a fading bruise. He can feel Finn's too-quick heartbeat beneath his palm, and his short breaths. There's no other movement or sound, not even of people passing by in the hallway outside. BB-8 has either switched to low-power mode, or is discreetly minding his business. 

"Why--" Poe says finally, and they both seem surprised by the clarity of his voice, "why wouldn't I want that?"

"Oh," says Finn, his fingers starting to trace invisible bands over Poe's wrist again, "I figured, after what you went through, you might not want…"

"Finn, I swear, if you're comparing yourself to Kylo Ren…"

"I'm not. I'd never do it on purpose. I'd never hurt you."

"I know. Hey, Finn, look at me."

And Finn looks at him. And Poe's breath snags because that look is the one from the _Finalizer_ : desperate and determined and just so unbelievably _kind_ , those dark eyes offering back to Poe everything that Kylo Ren took from him. Reminding him of who he is.

 _I can fly anything_. 

Warmth flutters through him for what feels like the first time in - hours? Days? _Months,_ he thinks. He broke, and he tried to put himself back together on his own, but it wouldn't hold. Piece by piece, he's been falling apart for _months._ And it hurts, the way frozen things do when they begin to thaw. But it's pain that he can live with. 

_You're human,_ Leia wisely told him. _You're allowed to hurt._ Come to think of it, L'ulo tried telling him the same thing, but he wasn't ready to listen. _You're allowed to feel. You're allowed to grieve. You're allowed to be angry. You're allowed to need time to heal._

_You're human._

_You're human._

He might really start to cry soon, and he only cares because there are things Finn still needs to hear from him, things he doubts he'll be able to get across clearly if he loses it like he's thinking he might. Finn is watching him, fingers still absently stroking the spot where Poe's binders bit into his skin, leaving welts and an ugly bruise. There's no trace of the wounds now, of course, hasn't been for a good long while, but if a part of Poe got stuck on that fucking ship, of course it makes sense that a part of Finn did too.

"You know how I feel about you," Poe says. "Right?"

Finn's fingertips skitter over his skin. "Uh, yeah," he admits. "Kind of."

"Kind of?" 

"Sorry," Finn mumbles. "It's just - yeah. I felt it. But it took me a while to figure out that I was … special. You're really nice to everyone, you know, even the droids." (BB-8 must have powered down, thinks Poe, or there's no way he wouldn't have a clever response to that.) "And everyone really seems to like you too. Also, there was never a point where your feelings suddenly changed. I don't know if it happened gradually, or if you were always… Anyway," he continues quickly, sounding slightly embarrassed, "it's not like I have a whole lot of experience with - anything."

"It didn't bother you?"

Finn raises his eyebrows, like he's starting to think the man he's in bed with might actually be crazy. He nudges Poe's knee with his own, and another wave of warmth sweeps through him; this time it doesn't hurt at all. "Does it look like it bothers me?"

"No, but. You're really nice to everyone too."

"Poe Dameron." And that clinches it: Finn thinks he's crazy. But he says it fondly, so it must not bother him that much. "I can't read your mind, you know. I don't know what you're feeling _all_ the time."

"That's probably a good thing, buddy."

"And I meant it, I'd never do it on purpose."

"I know."

Now, Poe thinks, would be a good time to do something brave. Then maybe he could convince himself that he really is; because he's apparently pretty good at convincing himself. So he untucks his other arm from between their bodies, ignoring the pins and needles, and pushes himself up onto his elbow. He takes a quick peek over Finn's shoulder, just to make sure BB-8 really is sleeping. Then he lowers his mouth to Finn's.

It's not a kiss that would ever win him any awards, just a brush of lips, an exchange of breath. But. The look of wonder that dawns over Finn's face is enough to lift him into the stratosphere. Shifting slightly so he can frame Finn's face with the crook of his arm, he presses a soft, close-mouthed kiss to the corner of his lips, then to his cheek, and then his ear, eliciting a shivery laugh.

"Tickles?" Poe asks, feeling the grin tugging at his own lips.

"Hmm." That's a happy sigh. "This is nice."

The grin deepens. He's received better compliments in his life, but he's unperturbed. "Just to be clear, you're not exactly seeing me at my best right now. In fact, I don't think you've ever seen me at my best. I promise, I'm really something. You can hold me to that."

"You are definitely something. But c'mon, you weren't at your best when we stole that TIE-fighter? Or when you took out all those TIEs over Takodana? Or blew up Starkiller Base?"

"Not what I'm talking about."

"Yeah, I know. M'not that naive. And don't worry, I am absolutely going to hold you to it."

"Good." Poe leans down to kiss him again, focusing his attention on his ear, since he seems to like that; nibbling along the delicate shell, briefly sucking the lobe between his teeth before moving down to nuzzle the soft skin over his pulse. "Thank you for coming to get me," he murmurs. He doesn't specify which time; he doesn't have to.

"Yeah." The word sounds choked out of Finn, like he's not too far away from crying either. At last he lets go of Poe's wrist, bringing both hands up to slide his fingers into Poe's hair, holding him securely. His lips brush Poe's cheek. "Always."

_____

It's quiet. It must be early evening, but it feels much later. BB-8 is in his cradle in the corner, glowing softly as he charges. Finn is still curled protectively around Poe, breathing slowly and deeply into his hair, though every time Poe starts to think he's fallen asleep he'll make a small noise, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, and the warm circle of his arms will tighten briefly.

Poe wishes that he could sleep, but his mind won't shut off. 

It isn't over. He should have known that it wasn't: it's never over. Kylo Ren is alive and he's out there somewhere, hunting for Rey and Luke Skywalker. He'll never stop until he finds them or he's dead. And if Finn can use the Force, it may be he's in even more danger than before. And Poe is grounded for at least a week. _And_ he needs to see a counselor. Which, to be fair, is probably something he should have done a long time ago.

He can hear L'ulo's somber voice, telling him it's about time he started following his own advice. And Leia's instruction: _You're going to learn something I never could, which is to put yourself first._ Which is really just a gentler way of saying, _you can't be expected to take care of other people if you can't even take care of yourself._

Which isn't wrong.

He wonders what his father would say. He knows what he _wants_ his father to say: _It's okay,_ mijo. _I'm proud of you. Come home when you can._

Come home.

He barely has time to register the burning behind his eyes before he feels Finn's arms tighten and the weight of his cheek, turning over and over against the top of his head. And that particular knot of tension leaves him.

He is going to have to talk about his many issues. Deal with them. It's going to hurt, and he's afraid.

But Finn thinks he's brave, and so does Leia. So does his wonderful droid, who brought him a rainbow because he thought it would help, and who hasn't left his side all this time. And so must his squadrons or they wouldn't follow him into battle. And he can be brave for them. He has to be. What he has with Finn is new. It lives in a part of him that Kylo Ren never touched, and he has to protect it.

And that isn't something he needs to convince himself of. It's more than plausible; it's real.

With that thought, drowsiness finally begins to steal over him and he sinks deeper into Finn's arms.

And gets on with his life.

6/9/2016

**Author's Note:**

> Song playing over the ending credits: [All the Stars](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/wailinjennys/allthestars.html) by the Wailin' Jennys.
> 
> Ending credits:
> 
> A thousand thank yous to the_dala for looking over the first draft and assuring me it wasn't a terrible idea, to coffeeinallcaps for the hand-holding and cheer-leading, and to morethanonepage for checking my Spanish (which ended up being only one word, but still, it's appreciated!)
> 
> The village woman Finn refers to is from [a deleted scene](http://thistlerosie.tumblr.com/post/141952602054/dekabreak101-finn-and-the-villager?utm_medium=email&utm_source=html&utm_campaign=post_photo), which I wish they'd kept because, to me, it makes so much more sense that his "awakening" would come from an act of compassion, rather than - or at least in addition to - an act of grief/fear.
> 
> [This GIF set on Tumblr](http://finnnpoe.tumblr.com/post/143958789389/poeahdameron-the-world-will-try-to-convince-you?utm_medium=email&utm_source=html&utm_campaign=post_photo) was also very inspiring, even though I only found it like a month ago and I've been working on this story since January.
> 
> Anyway. Feedback and reblogs fill me with utter joy. <3 <3 <3
> 
> (You can find me on [Tumblr](http://thistlerosie.tumblr.com/).)


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